


Enough

by rudbeckia



Series: Henrupe ficlets [9]
Category: Silence (2016), The Revenant (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Comfort Food, First Time, Fluff, M/M, Meeting the Parents, Modern AU, OC Parents - Freeform, Sharing a Bed, Sharing a Room, henrupe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-14 16:42:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29049366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rudbeckia/pseuds/rudbeckia
Summary: In their first semester of college, Francisco and Andrew are roomed together simply because their surnames are sequential in their dorm list. Somehow, both know from the start that they are going to be friends. Francisco can’t go home to Portugal for the holidays, so Andrew invites him to spend Christmas with him and his family instead.But Andrew’s ma misinterprets the situation. They’ll share a room and they’re only going to want one bed, right?
Relationships: Francisco Garupe/Andrew Henry
Series: Henrupe ficlets [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1689181
Comments: 10
Kudos: 11





	Enough

Andrew hadn’t been at college for more than a day before he knew Francisco and he were going to be friends. For one thing, they were assigned a twin dorm room. For two, Francisco was friendly and tidy. For three, the Portuguese divinity student was also fucking gorgeous. However, knowing within an hour of meeting him that Francisco was planning a career as a priest, Andrew put all notion beyond friendship from his head. They would be lifelong friends, he told himself, with a deep, lasting regard that would surpass a mere physical relationship.

Within a couple of weeks they were known as “twofer”. They went to breakfast together, parted to go to different classes, mat up again after to walk back to their dorm, sat together at dinner then studied inches apart, back to back at their matching, symmetrical desks in the evenings. More than once a week, one or other of them would express gratitude at being roomed together rather than housed in a tiny, solitary, private room where loneliness and homesickness could creep up like some wasting disease.

He loved Francisco, but sex, Andrew told himself with a deep and lasting sigh, would spoil what they had.

Francisco saw in Andrew someone he could trust, talk to about anything, practise his rapidly improving English on and teach enough Portuguese to to miss his family a little less. If they sometimes held hands on their way to and from campus, it was a gesture of friendship. If they hugged in greeting and parting, well that was just what they did. Perhaps Andrew was gentler, more open with showing brotherly affection than the other students who laughed and pushed and jostled and play-fought each other for contact. Perhaps he had been brought up not to fear love.

Oh yes, Francisco recognised his feelings for what they were. He loved Andrew, and that was good.

It wasn’t the same as the diffuse love he had for all of his fellows and it was certainly unlike the grudging, effortful love he felt for those few fellows who smirked at them but it was a warm feeling, one that put a soft smile on his face when he found his eyes glazing and his brain tuning out the drone of his lecturer’s voice as, instead, he looked ahead by a few hours to the moment he would see that mop of reddish blonde hair, those blue eyes and that bright smile again.

September passed into October then November was upon them with the thought of holidays cheering the campus through the cold grey days and longer nights. “What are you doing for Christmas?” Andrew turned from his task of draping string lights around their room. “Something with your family, I suppose? Or the cathedral?”  
Francisco sucked his lower lip into his mouth for a moment and frowned. Sure, there were things he could do with one of the cathedral groups and he could stay with one of the vergers if the thought of living in the dorm alone didn’t appeal, but...

“I don’t have anything planned,” he said. “I suppose I might—”  
”Come home with me!” Andrew levelled a sparkling grin at Francisco. “My ma already said you’re welcome. In fact,” Andrew dropped form his perch up on a chair and sat on the edge of his bed. “She said I might as well bring you home because she feels like she already knows you from how I talk about you all the time.”

Andrew’s face was pink, probably from the exertion of putting up the lights. Francisco’s smile grew at the sight of Andrew’s hopeful expression, and he nodded. “I can’t afford to fly back home. Please tell your mother thank you and that she is very kind.”  
Andrew whooped and got his phone out immediately. Francisco laughed when Andrew yelled, “He said yes and thanks!” then hung up.

Francisco got up, sat beside Andrew and hugged him. So what if he rested his head against Andrew’s and didn’t move for ten minutes. They were friends, and friends love one another, and that is good. The gospels were very clear on that.

“I bet you miss your family,” Andrew said, already missing Francisco’s warmth a second after Francisco got up to set up the little wooden nativity set Andrew had surprised him with when he unpacked the gaudy lights and the tinsel and the little plastic tree.  
“Yes,” Francisco replied, frowning as he tried to get the little figures into just the right arrangement. “But not—“ He sat back and frowned some more, only not because one of the three shepherds was off balance. _Not like I would miss you if I had to stay without you._ Maybe he would not say that, he decided. “Not too much. I can video call with them.”

So it was settled. On the last day of term, after their last exams, they would take a train and then a bus and then a cab to Andrew’s parents’ place.

It was three in the morning when the cab driver dropped them at the end of a gravel drive. Francisco grumbled blearily awake and shuffled out of the cab, lifted his luggage and followed Andrew up to the front door. Andrew let himself in quietly. A harsh light snapped on. Francisco shrieked.  
“Hi!” A kind looking woman walked up and offered a handshake. “You must be Francisco. You can call me ma if that’s okay with you. Or my name if it’s too soon. Oh you look beat, both of you. Go on, Andy, leave your things for the morning. Your room’s waiting for you. Goodnight!”

Andrew hugged his ma and kissed her cheek. Francisco submitted to a hug too and a murmur of “My you’re tall!” and a dry kiss on his cheek another murmur of “feels like you have not eaten a decent meal in months,” before Andrew’s ma released him and he trudged upstairs after Andrew.

Andrew led him into a room and closed the door, the turned to face Francisco. “I think ma might’ve put two and two together and made about a million,” he said quietly. “I thought she would have brought out the camp bed but…” Andrew stood back to show off his old bedroom in soft lamplight. The bed was plenty bigger than the singles in their dorm room, but there was only the one.

At three in the morning, after a long journey, Francisco could not have cared less. In fact, he could think of nothing more welcoming than crashing onto Andrew’s bed and sleeping beside him. He shrugged and smiled and yawned. Andrew laughed quietly and shook his head. “I’ll sort it tomorrow,” he promised. “Which side do you want?”

Francisco copied Andrew. He stripped down to his shorts and teeshirt and, too exhausted with the effort of sitting in a too-small seat for hours, rolled into bed beside Andrew with hardly a care that they hadn’t showered or brushed their teeth. Being able to stretch out was glorious and he was asleep in minutes.

His eyelids fluttered when birdsong broke the surface of his dreams, but it was fully daylight by the time he opened his eyes and took stock of his surroundings in a state of confusion brought on by the stress of being somewhere new. He blinked up at a white ceiling with a paper lampshade dangling from the centre. Light seeped through superhero-print curtains, and the faded wallpaper had brighter rectangles here and there where maybe posters had been put up and taken down again after years.

Andrew shifted beside him, turning and rolling closer, his arm flopping across Francisco’s chest and his forehead nudging Francisco’s shoulder. Warmth bubbled up inside Francisco’s chest until he thought he might burst with the sheer volume of feeling brought on by the accidental touch. Francisco smiled up at the paper globe then carefully, oh so carefully, turned his head and planted a soft kiss on Andrew’s head. He would have stayed to savour the moment, but nature had other ideas. Francisco turned towards Andrew, careful not to wake him, and slithered backwards out of bed. He stood and stretched, fingertips just brushing the ceiling, pulled on his discarded trousers, and realised he had no idea where the bathroom was.

He opened the bedroom door and peered out. Behind him, a voice came sleepily from under the covers. “Across the hall. Towels in the cabinet.”  
Francisco nodded although Andrew couldn’t see, and went out to explore.

When he returned with damp-black hair and heat-pink skin, Andrew was awake. “Good morning,” Francisco said, as if it was any other Saturday. “Did you sleep well?” Andrew smiled lazily and blinked, then yawned and stretched. Francisco laughed. “I see you did. I did too.” Andrew eased himself out of bed and staggered out of the room. Francisco shook out the covers and made the bed tidy, then found clean clothes to wear.

Andrew returned, also pink and damp, but paused in the doorway. “Did you really sleep okay? I worried that you might not.”  
“I slept very well.” Francisco, smiled. Andrew came into the room properly. “I thought—” _I thought it was nice waking up a little and having you there beside me._ Francisco’s stomach gave a little flutter. “I thought your bed was very comfortable.”  
Andrew laughed and nodded. “It really is. You can have it and I’ll take the camp bed tonight.”  
Francisco felt disappointment set like concrete. “No,” he said quickly. “I can’t push you out of your own bed.”  
“Well,” Andrew said with a shrug. “There’s only one solution. Well have to share.”  
Andrew’s eyes found Francisco’s, and Francisco returned Andrew’s nervous little smile.

Francisco looked around the room. Andrew pointed out a space Francisco could use for his usual morning prayer then unpacked quietly. He unpacked for Francisco too, folding and hanging clothes and stacking books, gathering up yesterday’s travel-soiled wear for the laundry.  
“Ready?” Andrew asked when Francisco pushed himself up onto his feet.  
“Ready,” Francisco replied. Andrew offered his hand. Francisco pulled him into a hug and kissed his cheek.

Downstairs, Andrew’s ma grinned when she saw them and waved at the kitchen table. “You two sit there. It’s been months since I saw Andy,” she said with a nod to Francisco, “and I think he has been skipping meals. Has he?” She looked appraisingly at Francisco. “Looks like you both have. I’ll make lunch unless you want breakfast first. It’s almost one.”  
“Lunch is fine, ma,” Andrew said, grinning in a way that warned Francisco that he was nervous.  
Francisco took Andrew’s hand under the table and stroked it. “Lunch will be nice. You are very kind,” Francisco said with his most cheerful smile. “Thank you.” He searched his memory  
for Andrew’s mother’s name but came up blank. “Ma,” he added.  
Ma beamed. “I’ll fix you some soup and bread. It’s all home made. Andrew likes the kind of soup you can stand the spoon up in. Don’t you, sweetheart?”  
Andrew nodded and gave a subdued little “yes”.  
Ma smiled and winked at Francisco. “I’ll give you the recipe later.”

With an apology that they were getting the last of the soup, Ma served up two large bowls with crusty bread and butter. Francisco turned down the offers of cheese for his bread and cream for his soup but he emptied his bowl and mopped around the sides with his last morsel of bread. Andrew did the same. Ma looked thoughtfully at their cleaned bowls and pursed her lips. “I was going to make more, if you like it?”  
“You know it,” Andrew said. “Thanks, ma.”  
Ma looked to Francisco. “That would be very kind of you,” he said. “It was very tasty. Thank you.”  
Ma nodded, satisfied. “Well, I am glad our Andy took up with a polite boy. It’s good to have you here, Francisco.” Ma looked to Andrew. “Why don’t you take Francisco out and show him around? You can use the car.”  
Andrew whooped and hugged Ma. “You’re the coolest,” he said. “We’ll be back for dinner. Will dad be here?”  
“You bet he will,” Ma said. “I’m making lasagna.”

Later, setting off in Ma’s little hatchback, Francisco asked, “Why wouldn’t your dad be there for dinner? Does he work late?”  
“Ma and dad don’t live together any more. I think they still like each other, but when I left for college dad got his own place.” Andrew chewed his lip for a few seconds. “I want to tell you something and you’re not to judge. Okay?”  
Francisco raised one eyebrow at Andrew. “I promise I won’t judge. You can say anything to me and I won’t judge you for it. I thought you knew you could trust me.”  
Andrew glanced at Francisco’s intense expression and pulled into side street, parking the car.  
“My ma’s not into men but my pa is. It got awkward. Why they ever got together is... is...” Andrew raised his hands in an exaggerated shrug.  
Francisco smiled. “I think I understand. Maybe they didn’t realise until later or maybe the time was wrong for them to accept who they are, but I’m glad they are putting it right and I’m glad they had you.” Francisco sighed and grasped Andrew’s hand again. “You know, Christ’s teachings compel us to love without condition. There is no rule in his teachings that tell us some kinds of love are right and others are wrong.”  
Andrew blinked a few times and smiled. He reclaimed his hand, started the car, and drove on.

After a tour of Andrew’s Brutalist high school building, his favourite mall (where they bought cookies and coffees and browsed the bookshop), a drive out to look at the mountains from too far away to see, the boys returned home to a kitchen rich with the scent of garlic and olive oil and herbs and the tang of tomatoes and sweet, dark vinegar. Francisco salivated at the aroma. Andrew pulled him by the hand into the kitchen. 

“You must be Francisco,” a man as tall as Andrew but broader said, offering a firm handshake. “I feel like I know you already. You can call me Da if it’s not too weird. Tell me about Portugal. I’ve never been there.”

Swept up on Andrew’s Da’s attention, Francisco talked animatedly about his family and his home. Ma pulled Andrew close and spoke for him alone. “You’ll be going to his folks’s place next I expect, for Easter.” She smiled. “We’ll miss you but your Da and I discussed it and we’ll pay your fare if you’re set on this boy. You seem so relaxed with him. Happy.” She blinked away the threat of tears. “We never got that chance, you know? We did what was expected of us in that respect, and I don’t regret it because we got you, but we want you to know you’ll never have to make that kind of compromise.”  
“Ma,” Andrew said in alarm. “How did you know I’m gay?”  
Ma looked at her son in disbelief. Off to the side, Da laughed. “Andy, you never had to tell us because you never had to hide it. And I’m proud of that.” Andrew looked nervously at Francisco. Da stood up and stretched. ”I think we should have some wine with dinner.” He grinned at Ma. “Want to walk with me to go buy a bottle? You always choose better than me.”

With his parents safely absent for the half hour it might take to stroll the half mile to the nearest shop and back again, Andrew looked warily at Francisco. “Is this a bad time to tell you I’m gay?”  
Francisco stood opposite Andrew, took his hands and held his gaze. “Your parents think I’m your boyfriend.”  
Andrew blinked and looked away. “Yes.”  
“Then I would not want two such welcoming, lovely people to be disappointed.” Francisco closed his eyes and silently asked for divine help. Only one solution presented itself, simple and obvious, in his mind. “So, I will be you boyfriend.” Heat rose up Francisco’s neck and face and he opened his eyes, smiled at Andrew, and added, “until you find someone who is right for you.”

Andrew bit his lip hard to stop his emotions from boiling over. “You don’t have to,” he said. “I can explain and we can all laugh it off.”  
Francisco shook his head. “No. I want—” He stopped and closed his eyes again, took a deep breath. “I don’t know how to say what I want. I want to be with you.”  
“You’re studying to be a priest,” Andrew said wryly. “I’m pretty sure there are rules and vows about that.”  
“I’m not a priest yet,” Francisco said, frowning slightly, meeting Andrew’s gaze with a steadiness that came from the certainty that he was doing the right thing. “And I have not taken any vows.”  
“I suppose we don’t have to do anything,” Andrew said after a minute. “Other than the stuff we already do.”  
Francisco smiled, relief washing over him. “I don’t want to stop hugging you or holding your hand,” he said. “But I don’t want it to be uncomfortable between us now. Do you think it will feel different?”  
“I don’t know,” Andrew said. “Maybe we should find out.”  
Francisco cupped Andrew’s face in one large palm and slipped his other arm around Andrew’s back. Andrew slid his arms around Francisco’s waist, the familiarity of the move overlaid with new meaning that made his heart beat harder. “Don’t move,” he heard himself say, as if begging for the moment to last longer. In response, Francisco held him a little more tightly.

Andrew lost track of time in Francisco’s embrace. The oven clicked and whirred softly, the clock on the wall ticktock-ticktocked, and Francisco held him in steady silence. Eventually, reassured that Francisco was not going anywhere, Andrew pulled back a little and saw Francisco’s deep, dark eyes, Francisco’s soft smile, Francisco’s slight furrow between the eyes. He smiled in return, and moved in to kiss Francisco’s cheek. Francisco moved in too and their lips missed each other by a fraction. Andrew laughed first. “Will you explode in hellfire if we kiss?”  
Francisco felt a low heat in his gut, a tingle that made him want to be reckless. “Only one way to find out,” he said. “We could—”

He stiffened at a sound from the hallway.  
“Hi, boys!” a voice sang. “We’re home!”

Andrew and Francisco sprang apart, looked at each other, and laughed nervously. Francisco reached for Andrew again as deliberately loud footsteps approached the kitchen door. “You really don’t mind?” Andrew murmured.  
“I really don’t mind,” Francisco replied, ghosting a kiss onto Andrew’s lips just as the door creaked slowly open.  
Andrew’s da blustered in and plonked two bottles onto the table. “Ma chose chianti, I wanted merlot, so we got both.”  
Ma followed, a smile on her face. “Andy, you open those. Francisco, there are glasses in that cupboard.” She pointed. “I’ll serve and you,” she added, pointing at Da, “can set the table.”

The kitchen became a flurry of activity. Soon, four people sat around the table with full plates of food and full glasses of chianti. Da looked at Ma. Ma looked at Andrew. Andrew looked at Francisco. Francisco laughed. He clasped his hands in front of him, and said, “Lord, thank you for this food and this family.” From the look on Ma’s face, he thought it seemed to have been the right thing to say.

The lasagna was delicious. Andrew and Francisco both cleared their plates and accepted second helpings. Despite raising his eyebrows at the sheer volume of food on his plate, Francisco finished it. Andrew left a forkful uneaten and declared himself defeated. Ma smiled and stroked Andrew’s hair. “I knew you wouldn’t eat properly at college.” She smiled at Francisco too. “There’s no lasagna left but there’s ice cream and apple pie in the freezer if you would like dessert.”  
Francisco weighed up the delight of home cooked (probably) apple pie against the discomfort of his distended belly and shook his head. “No,” he said, smiling. “Thank you very much. The meal was wonderful. May I help to clear up?”  
“Since you’re family,” Ma said with a laugh, “yes you may. Andy? You’re in charge. I’m going to watch TV.”  
Da smiled at both of them. “I’m taking full advantage of the fact that you probably don’t want a third wheel. I’m going to watch TV with your ma.”

Andrew waited until the door closed before grinning at Francisco. “She wasn’t kidding about the apple pie. If you’re hungry, she will feed you. If you’re not hungry, she’ll feed you. Ma takes pride in being able to rustle up a three course meal for twelve people at an hour’s notice.”  
“I like your ma,” Francisco replied. “I think she and my grandmother would compete to see who could put the most food on the table.”

Andrew clattered used plates into the dishwasher. Francisco carefully washed the glassware in hot water and rinsed it in cold. Soon the kitchen looked neat again and the dishwasher hummed and sloshed and whooshed happily. “Come on,” Andrew said. “We can watch TV with my parents or we can go upstairs.”  
“Which is expected?” Francisco said, frowning. “At home I would play with my brother and sister for a while then study.”  
“Well I have no brother or sister here and we don’t have to study, but if you’ve had enough of my folks, trust me, I understand.” Francisco looked worried. “It’s all right,” Andrew said, slipping his arms around Francisco’s shoulders. “I’d normally just go upstairs myself. I’ll tell ma we’re tired.”  
“She won’t think I’m rude?”  
Andrew shrugged. “No. Not compared to me, anyway.”

Francisco waited in the hallway whilst Andrew stuck his head around the living room door and said they were going upstairs. He heard Da say, “C’m’ere a minute,” and Andrew went into the room. Francisco hung around the bottom of the stairs until Ma came out and asked if he was ready for dessert yet. He declined with a smile and a shake of his head and, after a few minutes of smalltalk, Ma retreated back into the living room. Andrew emerged pink-faced and not meeting Francisco’s eyes. He thundered upstairs with Francisco trailing behind him.

Andrew closed the door behind Francisco and looked at him from under wary brows. “Don’t panic,” he said, taking a deep breath and holding it for a count of.. of... of who knows how many.  
Francisco regarded him quizzically. “Why would I panic?” he asked. Then he laughed. “Is the apple pie in the oven? Do I have to eat more to be polite?”  
Andrew wagged a finger, shook his head and let out his breath slowly. “Da wanted to give me something. He said he stashed it for us if we needed it. Under the pillow.”  
“Oh!” Francisco stepped toward the bed.  
“Don’t!” Andrew tried to intervene but there was nothing he could do to stop Francisco from slipping his hand between the pillows and the sheet. He pulled out a small, drawstring washbag.  
“This?” Francisco held it up. Andrew covered his face and nodded. Francisco looked inside and guffawed with laughter. He tipped out the contents: a strip of extra-strength condoms and a bottle of strawberry flavoured lube. “Andrew, my darling Andrew,” he said through barely suppressed giggles. “Your Da cares for you.” A devilish thought took him. “Should I go and say thank you?”  
“No!” Andrew blocked the door. “Absolutely not. You are never to mention this to my parents.”  
Francisco nodded and controlled his mirth. “I promise I will never speak of this,” he said, face solemn. then an impish grin spread across his face. “Except to you.”  
Andrew peered at Francisco through the splayed fingers of the hands covering his face. “They. Are. So. Embarrassing.”

Francisco gathered up the unexpected gift and put it under the bed. “They care for you,” he said. “They want you to be happy. Mine would be less understanding.” He smiled and gathered Andrew into his arms. “I like your parents.”  
“They like you,” Andrew replied. “Ma said you were a polite boy and a ‘good eater’ but you’re too thin. Da said you seem like a good fellow, which is the best I’ve heard him say about anyone.”  
They stood still for a full minute, arms around each other, minds racing, Andrew thinking about how Francisco was his best friend, how their friendship had sprung up so quickly by the sheer chance of having surnames next to each other in the college dorm list. Francisco thinking about how he was a guest and how he’d worried (unnecessarily as it happened) about how Andrew’s family would perceive their close friendship. “Andrew,” he said, quietly. “You know I am also gay?”

Andrew sagged, resting some weight against Francisco. “I didn’t want to hope,” he said quietly. “I mean, when we met I liked you right away but that doesn’t mean anything. I’ve fallen in love before with someone who couldn’t ever love me back and—”  
Andrew stopped, lower lip firmly stilled, pink-red between white teeth, realising what he had said and unable, unwilling, to unsay it.  
“I think,” Francisco said quietly and deliberately, “I have fallen in love too. With you. Only I did not know what the feeling was at first.” Andrew turned his face up towards Francisco’s. Francisco gazed into those bright eyes and smiled wider. “Are we,” he said, “in love?”  
“Are you,” Andrew replied, “allowed?”

Francisco brought one finger up to press against his closed lips, then he smiled and nodded. He held Andrew close, kissed him once on the forehead, once on each cheek, once on his lips. Andrew held tightly to Francisco, kissed him back, parting his lips in invitation and delighting in the thrill that ran through his core when Francisco’s tongue met his. It felt like something unlocked, as if the last chunk of ice blocking a waterfall melted and a cascade of emotion rushed over him. Andrew and Francisco clung to each other, kissing and murmuring broken endearments, pulling at clothing that Shouldn’t Be There until they were mostly nude and wondering if they could touch, if it was okay to explore, to grab and rub and hold what had been forbidden by their own fears and assumptions.

Francisco broke first, sweeping his hand down from Andrew’s shoulder to his ass. Andrew spluttered and laughed and palmed Francisco’s cock through his underwear, glancing down at the head of his growing erection just peeking up from the elastic of his underpants. “Show me,” Andrew demanded.  
“You have seen me before,” Francisco reminded, “every morning.”  
“This is different,” Andrew insisted. “This time I’m allowed to look.”  
Francisco laughed softly and removed what remained of his clothing. “You too,” he murmured. “I want to look at you without hiding it.”

Within a minute they stood, facing each other, nude and unashamed. Francisco dropped to his knees and kissed the fine trail of hair that led down from Andrew’s navel. Andrew held Francisco’s head and gazed down in wonder and surprise. “What are you doing?” he asked softly.  
“I want you,” Francisco replied, looking up. “You have no idea how often I’ve imagined this might happen but pushed the thought away.”  
Andrew stroked Francisco’s hair and nodded. “Fuck,” he said. “Yes.”

Both asked, but both already knew, this was their first. Andrew led Francisco into bed, spooned him, stroked him until he came with a shudder and a sigh. Francisco crept down the bed and took Andrew’s cock into his mouth, surprised by the speed at which Andrew came and by the salt of his come. After an hour of dozing and giggled endearments, their second times were better. Francisco held back a little when Andrew moaned and Andrew varied his pace when Francisco’s cock twitched in his hand. Their third time was better still, but they both fell asleep before needing to use Da’s embarrassing gift.

Andrew woke in daylight, Francisco face down and starfished across him. He could hear, and smell, that Ma was making a full breakfast for them. He shook Francisco’s shoulder and smiled in response to the bleary blinking grin he got. “Morning, love,” he said, accepting a kiss. “Ma’s cooking.”  
“Mmm,” Francisco replied. “Smells good.”  
“The secret is,” Andrew said, “Whatever you’ve been taught about clearing your plate, leave a bite.”  
“Huh?” Francisco frowned at Andrew. “In my family we may not let food go to waste. We eat everything and say thank you.”  
“Well,” Andrew said with a little giggle. “I should’ve said before. If you clear your plate Ma will think she didn’t feed you enough. Leave the last forkful, or your portions will grow exponentially.”

Francisco laughed, pulled himself on top of Andrew and dipped down for a soft kiss. “Okay,” he said. “Leave something to show I have had enough.”  
“Yes,” Andrew replied with a smile.  
“So, what do I do,” Francisco said with a grin, ”to show that I could never have had enough of you?”


End file.
